


Cheat Day

by IntoTheAbyssWeGo



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Autistic Character, Cheat Day, Even though it's not mentioned, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mycroft Loves Sweets, OC, Pastries, Pining, Sensory Overload, Straight up fluff, We love Carrie, autistic author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28893513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoTheAbyssWeGo/pseuds/IntoTheAbyssWeGo
Summary: Mycroft is simply trying to go about his days without being distracted by lovely brown eyes and silver hair. His plans at a drama-free existence go up in smoke when he runs into said distraction at his favorite bakery on his cheat day. Will he be able to keep his cool and maintain a professional distance, or will a devious pâtissière help him on his way to happiness? (She does. This is nothing but cuteness from start to finish.)
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Lestrade
Comments: 22
Kudos: 93





	1. Cheat Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovelies! Here I am again with another ship in the Sherlock universe. While there is a lot of angst, and a few moments of Mycroft dealing with sensory overload, this is nothing but cute, sweet, fluff from beginning to end. I had a lot of fun writing this one and I'm considering writing a version from Greg's point of view and maybe even Carrie's. Let me know if you'd like to read that!

The scritching of the pen was the only sound disturbing the monotonous silence as Mycroft signed his name perfunctorily on the last of who knows how many papers. Really, the documents were of utmost importance, but couldn’t he just get a stamp with his name on it? Must he get early onset repetitive strain injury from merely signing his name thousands of times? 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mycroft could feel a tension headache coming on. While Sherlock might have referred to the body as mere transport, Mycroft felt bodies were much too cumbersome and irritating to classify as anything other than a nuisance. Inhaling for four counts, holding it, and exhaling in a controlled breath, he decided that that was enough work for one day. It was his cheat day today and if he didn’t leave soon he wouldn’t be able to stop by his favorite bakery on the way home and that sachertorte was calling his name. 

After locking everything away, Mycroft turned and gave one last scrutinizing look over his office. Mmm yes, antique cherry truly was the perfect choice of wood for his desk. Draping his umbrella casually over his arm, he swept out of his office. Anthea was ready and waiting for him with several folders to be taken home and looked over at his leisure because that was the only thing his leisure time was good for, apparently. Really, it was highly impressive how she managed to stand with a stack of folders in one arm and continue to text with the other, but he wished she wasn’t quite so good at her job because that meant he also had to be that much more efficient. Maybe if he asked nicely and promised her a raise he could convince her to stop being so dependable. 

As he entered the armored car, Mycroft allowed the sound of Anthea’s voice to wash over him as he looked out the window at yet another overcast day in London. Watching the unwashed masses scurrying about their drab little lives, he allowed himself a soft sigh. Something that Mycroft would never admit to was that he often felt pangs of jealousy as he watched other people live their unremarkable days under the sun… or rather, the clouds. While he was grateful for the intelligence and understanding his brain allowed him, sometimes it was overwhelming. To literally see everything. Not just the obvious pictures that people painted for the world to see, but the grit, the dirt, the filth. To know the history of a person from the mere turn of their cuff. To know the pain, joy, sorrow, thrills, and drudgery of a life at a glance. Highly useful as it was, especially in the profession he had grown into, it was exhausting. If only there was an off switch. 

As this thought flitted across his mind, the car pulled to a stop in front of one of the very few places that brought him real joy in life; The Bakery. While he allowed other people to take care of his many day to day needs, this was one thing he insisted on doing himself. There was nothing that could replace that first hot rush of air as it carried the scent of freshly baked pastries to him through the open door. 

At the tinkle of the bell, Carrie, the shop assistant who was always there on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays from 3 p.m. to 9 p.m., looked up and smiled. She really was a good girl, always genuine in her pleasure at seeing him. She really ought to leave that trashy boyfriend though, she was much too good for him. 

“Good evening sir! Glad to see you back again! What’ll it be this time around? You’re slowly but surely making your way through all we have to offer. I’m worried once you’re done you might not come back again!” She gave a warm smile as she leaned against the counter. 

“Yes, good evening,” he replied with a small, but genuine smile in return. “I’m sure even after I’ve sampled all your wonderful wares that I will simply start over again. Today I’ll have your-” 

“Mycroft!” A loud voice called in obvious surprise. 

As the sound of his name expanded into the warm air and died away, Mycroft turned to observe who could possibly know him in this particular establishment. The arch of his eyebrow was the only indication of his shock as he tried to control his breathing as well as his blasted heart. 

“Ah. Good evening Detective Inspector,” He intoned as he inclined his head in polite recognition. 

“How many times do I have to ask you to call me Greg?” Greg asked ruefully, shaking his head with a smile. 

“I’m merely attempting to give you the respect your hard earned title requires,” Mycroft responded as he held his hand out. 

Clasping Mycroft’s hand in both of his Greg gave it a hearty shake. “While I appreciate that, I’d have to start calling you Prime Minister or something if we went by those standards. At least cut it down to just ‘inspector’ or even just ‘Lestrade’ would be great if I can’t get you to call me by my first name.” 

“Very well then, Inspector. As to being called Prime Minister, I’m afraid that title has already been taken by someone else and I am more than happy to remain in the position I currently hold.” At this Mycroft’s eyes were drawn back to the tantalizing array of pastries hidden behind the glass dome. “What brings you to this particular establishment, if I might ask?” 

Chuckling at Mycroft’s reply Greg looked at the pastries as well, “Oh you know, just got off and wanted something sweet since today was a bit of a mess and just happened to be passing by,” Greg replied, shrugging. 

Looking more closely, Mycroft could tell that Gregory truly had had a terrible day. Three cases of drunken misconduct, one of which had actually puked on him, a missing child’s case and as such devastated parents, hours of paperwork he still hadn’t finished, and reassigning positions internally due to inappropriate relations, one of which was already married. Mycroft’s heart went out to Gregory. As observant as he was, it didn’t take a genius to see the slump of Gregory’s shoulders, the bags under his eyes, or the pallor of his skin. “I am sorry to hear it. Is there anything I might be able to assist with?” 

“-What?” Greg looked up distractedly from his own perusal of the pastries. “Oh no, you’re fine. Thanks for the offer though, I do appreciate it. Just gonna get some sugar in me and call it a day,” he said smiling genially. 

“Well then, the least I could do is to purchase the pastry of your choosing as thanks for the hard work you put in on a daily basis for my own family as well as the people of London,” Mycroft pronounced as he gave a meaningful look to Carrie who had been observing their whole exchange. Smiling and nodding emphatically, Carrie readied herself to grab whatever the gentlemen chose. 

Already shaking his head in protest Greg held up his hands. “Oh no, you don’t have to…” petering off, Greg paused for a moment, “No. You know what? I’m just going to accept your generosity and be grateful to end this day on a positive note!” 

Hiding a smile as he turned back to the display case, Mycroft finally gave his order to Carrie. “I’ll have your sachertorte please, Carrie. And the Inspector will have…” pausing to look over at Gregory, he once again had to hide a smile at the look of glee on Gregory’s face as he perused the pastries. 

“What was that you got, then?” Greg asked looking up at Mycroft after dithering over his choices, seeming unable to make up his mind. 

“I ordered the sachertorte. It is a chocolate sponge cake with apricot preserves and a dark chocolate icing… I find it to be rich, yet delicate and I must admit to it being one of my favorites.” Here Mycroft broke eye contact feeling uncharacteristically shy, to which Greg raised his eyebrow laughing softly to himself. 

Nodding decisively as he made up his mind, Greg shot a blinding smile at Mycroft saying, “I’ll just get that too then! It sounds absolutely scrumptious.” 

Mycroft wanted to request that Gregory please stop making his heart work harder than absolutely necessary. It was causing excess perspiration that he had no need of, thank you very much. Drawing out his wallet, Mycroft held his card out to Carrie and found her beaming at him more than usual. Oh dear. She knew. Damn women and their intuition. 

After boxing everything up for them, Carrie wished them a good evening and caught Mycroft’s attention with an evil glint in her eye. “Good night, sir! I look forward to seeing you next time when you come on Thursday at 8!” 

Once again trying to hide his surprise, Mycroft cursed nosey pâtissières who couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Whatever do you-” 

“Oh! You come here on the regular, then?” Greg asked as he held the door open for Mycroft to go through. 

Shooting a death glare at Carrie who looked positively villainous he replied curtly, “Yes. It would seem so.” 

“Right, I’ll just have to try coming by at the same time, maybe we could just sit and chat. I know I could use some more nice evenings in my life,” Greg continued as they walked outside as though he hadn’t just thrown Mycroft’s whole equilibrium off kilter. “Ta, for this by the way mate! I’m looking forward to trying it! I’ll tell you what I think next time, yeah? Right, I’m off then.” Waving genially, Greg marched off into the night before Mycroft even had time to respond. 

“Yes… good evening… Gregory,” Mycroft’s whispered response hushed into the silence.


	2. Cheat Day 2

As that week ended and the new week began, Mycroft had to sit down and lecture himself about being distracted by lovely brown eyes and a smile that should be illegal. His efficiency at work had dropped by a whole seven percent and that was unacceptable. He had enough issues to be going on with and needed to get his head out of the clouds. 

The next cheat day dawned after a taxing night of international drama and nearly no sleep. Mycroft rose with the sun as per usual trying to shake off the nightmare that had haunted his few hours of rest. His skin felt tight and even with his silk pyjamas and high thread count sheets, it seemed as though he was being rubbed raw. Cracking his eyes open, the little light coming in from the window seemed blinding and he quickly closed his eyes again only to become aware of the buzzing of electricity around him that seemed to worm it’s way into his skull. He breathed in for four, held for four, exhaled for six. Right. He wasn’t going anywhere today. There was no way he would overwhelm his ridiculous body any further and suffer a panic attack where anyone else could see. 

After sending off a voice message to Anthea letting her know he would work from home that day, he divested himself of his pyjamas and laid under his weighted blanket listening to the soft lilting melodies of Chopin until his skin no longer felt like it was burning and he could breathe again without fear of hyperventilating. Ridiculous really, he lost enough precious time simpering over someone who would never look twice at him, but now he had to cave to his body’s own ridiculous malfunctions and lose even more time. 

Resolving to work harder that day even if it was from home, he sat down to his task and lost himself in phone calls and paperwork. It was already late when his phone chimed, startling him out of his concentration. 

**Gregory 8:14 p.m.:** _Went to the bakery again today, but must have missed you! Hope all is well!_

Oh no. Gregory! How had he forgotten today was cheat day and Gregory had intimated that he might be there?! Blast it all to hell! Cupping his face in his palms, Mycroft let out a very un-Mycroft-like groan of exasperation. He had to respond, there was nothing for it. 

**Mycroft 8:15 p.m.:** _Hello Inspector, thank you for your concern. Unforeseen circumstances kept me away today, but I shall be there next week barring any more unexpected occurrences._

A reply came almost instantly causing Mycroft’s breath to catch. 

**Gregory 8:15 p.m.:** _Oh? Nothing too serious, I hope! Is it something you’re not allowed to talk about with little old me?_

**Mycroft 8:16 p.m.:** _No indeed, it was due to personal health reasons._

Why had he sent that? Gregory didn’t need to know that! Why did this man seem to lower his brain’s ability to function? 

**Gregory 8:16 p.m.:** _Are you ill? Do you need anything? I’m out and about and can grab whatever you need._

Why must this man be so wonderful? Blushing into his hands again Mycroft deliberated about his response. There was no way in hell he was going to tell the truth, but he didn’t want Gregory thinking he was languishing in bed either. 

**Mycroft 8:17 p.m.:** _Once again, thank you for your concern. I am not ill in any way you need to be troubled about. I am already recovered and shall return to my regular schedule tomorrow._

There, that should suffice. Hopefully Gregory would just drop it and go about his evening. Mycroft was sure it had been another long day for him. He may or may not have requested Anthea keep him up to date on the Inspector’s activities. It was fine. What Gregory didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right? 

After a couple minutes, Mycroft concluded that Gregory wasn’t going to text him back and must have gone to bed. Speaking of bed, it was high time he started getting ready for that as well. Just as he was getting into his pyjamas the doorbell rang. 

“Who the devil is that?” He knew it must be someone official if his bodyguards had allowed them to approach the door. Debating whether he should put on more decent clothes, he sniffed haughtily. If they were willing to come to his house so late at night, they should bloody well be ready to see him in his sleeping garments. Despite having come to that conclusion, however, Mycroft decided to wrap a robe around himself just in case it was someone of higher rank. 

Upon opening the door, he could not have regretted his decision more than if he had answered it naked. Standing there on his front door step was Gregory Lestrade, looking like he didn’t know what to do with himself. Mycroft didn’t know what to do with him either. 

“... Inspector. I must say I was not expecting you.” Stepping back to gesture him into the house, Mycroft took a moment to compose himself. 

“Hey Mycroft, sorry to just come by unannounced, but I happened to be at the bakery when we were texting and Carrie and I agreed that since it was your cheat day, don’t know what that is by the way, that if you couldn’t come to the cake, the cake should come to you!” At this pronouncement, he held up a chocolate mousse layered with almond meringue and covered in dark chocolate shavings. 

Mycroft was so caught off guard that he was only able to stare. 

“... So um. Carrie said you hadn’t tried this one yet and that you seem to favor the ones with chocolate, so yeah,” Greg said smiling ruefully. Blinking out of his shock induced stupor, Mycroft looked up at the unbelievable man in front of him. “You… got me a pastry… and brought it to me?” He asked, still a bit dazed. 

“It would appear that way, yes,” Greg replied, smiling even more. 

“I… Well, thank you, Inspector. I shall reimburse you, please wait a moment,” turning to get his checkbook, Mycroft felt his arm being pulled back. 

“No! No need, really! To be honest, I didn’t even buy this. Carrie was so worried about you that when I told her my plan to bring it to you she gave it to me free of charge. Sweet girl, really.” Greg gently pushed the pastry into Mycroft’s hands and started backing towards the door again. “Well, I’m glad you’re doing alright. Sorry again about disturbing you. I’ll just see you later, then! Good night!” Turning around sharply, Greg almost ran out of the door and vanished once again before Mycroft could respond. 

“... What in the bloody hell just happened?”


	3. Cheat Day 3

Several weeks passed and Mycroft was able to settle back into his routine. Even though Sherlock seemed to be swanning off into more ridiculous messes, Mycroft had every certainty that between John and Gregory, everything would be fine. As long as he didn’t have to make any personal contact with any of those people, especially a certain Inspector, then everything was fine. Gregory had clearly been too busy to stop by the bakery anymore after that day due to several homicides that had occurred in short succession. Hopefully, Sherlock would be distracted enough by these cases to grant Mycroft a few days of emotional and mental reprieve from babysitting. 

He, himself, had been extremely busy with the delegation from China and had been unable to go in person to the bakery and instead had had to send Anthea in his place. Today, however, things had finally calmed down and he was once again feeling the warm wash of air as he stepped inside it’s cozy walls. 

“Mr. Holmes!” Carrie cried as he entered, “Welcome back! I’ve missed seeing you. My shifts just aren’t the same without you coming in, although Anthea is wonderful,” she said smiling as she leaned on the counter. 

“Yes, hello again Carrie. I hear I am to thank you for your generosity the other day, the mousse was wonderful, as always,” he replied with a solemn nod. 

Eyes crinkling in pleasure Carrie responded, “But of course Mr. Holmes. We were both really worried about you, you know! You never get sick, so when that dashingly handsome Inspector said you weren’t feeling well I wanted to help cheer you up!” At this, the evil glint came back to her eye and she continued, “He really is a bit of a silver fox, isn’t he, Mr. Holmes? Very dashing.” 

Ignoring her as he glanced over the pastries, Mycroft sniffed disdainfully. “I confess I hadn’t noticed any such thing. Either way, it is of no consequence to me. We are merely colleagues who assist one another every now and then.” 

Raising an eyebrow at that blatant lie Carrie grinned. “Oh. Well then, I suppose you wouldn’t be interested in hearing about how he asked me aaaalllll about you then. Of course, if it isn’t any consequence to you it doesn’t matter that he spent fifteen minutes asking about which pastries are your favorites and wondering which one you might like best. I have to admit, it was ridiculously adorable.” As Mycroft looked sharply up at her, she stared about the room nonchalantly pursing her lips. 

“Nosey pâtissières might find themselves losing loyal customers,” he quipped as he pointed towards a chocolate raspberry petit four. 

Grinning as she leaned down to get the pastry she said, “All I’m saying is that he hasn’t been here since that day and I can’t help but be worried about him too. I mean, he might need a bit of a pick-me-up. His job seems really stressful, you know?” As she said this, she deliberately put two pastries into boxes and handed them over to Mycroft. 

Staring down at the boxes, Mycroft looked up at her trying not to let his nerves show, but they must have leaked through because Carrie’s grin melted into something much softer. 

“You can blame me for being a nosey pâtissière when you go to give it to him. Heaven knows it’s true,” she chuckled. “Anyways, I’m just trying to drum up more loyal customers. Don’t want to lose him already!” 

Handing back Mycroft’s card and receipt, he realized she’d only charged him for one of the pastries. Without saying anything more, Mycroft merely smiled gently and went back outside to the car waiting for him. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to make an extra stop before going home. As he walked out the door he heard Carrie’s teary gasp as she saw the amount of money that he had surreptitiously slipped into the tip jar. She was putting herself through university, for Heaven’s sake, the girl needed all the help she could get. 

*** 

Pulling up to the station, Mycroft couldn’t believe he’d been manipulated by a meddling university student into bringing sweets to Gregory. He wished Anthea was here so he could just make her go deliver the goods, but knowing her she’d probably just give him a look and make him do it himself anyways. She also knew how he … most definitely didn’t feel towards the Inspector and always made Mycroft talk to Gregory in person whenever possible. He was avoiding him on purpose, thank you. Why could no one else get with the program? 

Finally deciding that hesitating in the car would do no one any good, he exited the car and swept into the building. Walking through the hallways, Mycroft could feel everyone’s eyes as they followed his journey towards Gregory’s office. Even though he refused to let anything show on his face, Mycroft’s nerves kept ratcheting up by the second. 

Reaching the door, he slowed down to take a moment to just look at Gregory before he had to announce himself. Hunched over his desk, Gregory looked absolutely exhausted. His hand raked through his hair leaving it mussed. There were stains on his shirt from what looked like an unfortunate coffee incident. It was clear he had a tension headache and Mycroft could tell that he hadn’t eaten all day. 

Clearing his throat to finally announce his presence, Mycroft strode fully into the room. “Good evening, Inspector.” 

Looking up Greg looked momentarily stunned, “Mycroft! Hullo, what brings you here? Official business? Is it Sherlock?” 

“Not this time,” Mycroft replied with a small but rueful smile. “I was finally able to return to the bakery and was given the task of delivery boy, as it were.” So saying, he placed the petit four on the desk in front of Greg and stood there stiffly, not quite knowing what to do next. 

“Mycroft…” Greg tapered off staring at the cake as though it was the eighth wonder of the world. “Mycroft, I don’t know how to thank you for this.” Scrubbing his hand down his face, he gave Mycroft a tired smile. “These past few weeks have been absolute mayhem, so this comes as a very welcome, very appreciated surprise.” 

“No thanks are necessary, I assure you. It was my pleasure to return the favor.” After hesitating slightly, Mycroft continued, “Inspector, I do not wish to overstep, but I do believe it would be more beneficial to you in the long run, if you went home for today. I believe you’ve done enough and going home now would allow you to be well rested for whatever tomorrow may bring.” 

Staring at Mycroft in slight surprise, a slow smile spread across Greg’s face. “You know what? You’re right. I have absolutely had enough of this day and I will be glad to put it behind me.” Standing from his desk, he gently lifted the cake while smiling down at it. “I don’t suppose you still have yours?” He asked looking over at Mycroft. 

“I do, in fact, still have mine. I have not yet had time to sit down and enjoy it,” Mycroft replied thanking his lucky stars he didn’t eat it in the car no matter how highly tempted he had been. 

Greg looked at him for a moment and seemed to steel himself before he spoke, “I… I don’t suppose you’d be interested in coming to mine? We could eat it together and I could drive you home afterward?” 

Mycroft could tell Greg wanted to break eye contact, but was holding it resolutely nonetheless. “That- that would be acceptable, Inspector,” he replied, trying his best not to sound as breathless as he felt. After this pronouncement, he was met with yet another smile that seemed to light up Gregory’s whole face. 

“I won’t even bother to ask if you know where I live, because I feel like that would be insulting to the both of us,” Greg said with a wicked grin. Inclining his head in silent agreement of the truth to that statement, Mycroft thanked whatever higher power there may be that Gregory didn’t know the reasons behind that knowledge. It was a good thing he held his current position in the government, because otherwise his obsessive knowledge in regards to everything ‘Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade’ would most likely land him in prison. 

Unbeknownst to Greg that Mycroft was currently having a mini existential crisis, he jovially led the way outside. “I’ll just see you there, then!” Waving his hand in farewell, Greg watched as Mycroft got into the waiting car and turned to go find his own more humble vehicle. 

*** 

Upon entering Gregory’s apartment, Mycroft took the chance to discreetly look around to gather the insider knowledge he craved but hadn’t had a chance to satiate before this moment. His mind started to overload with information: Gregory was a cat person even though he obviously enjoyed dogs as well, his favorite color was dark grey, because he was starting to struggle with his knees, he put things lower than necessary out of sheer stubbornness, he had a soft spot for family, but had none which caused him a lot of heartache, being a true romantic, he would prefer flowers over something expensive such as a watch. 

Mycroft could feel his heart swelling with each new piece of information that his brain supplied him. Hearing the door close behind him, he turned around and asked, “Where would you prefer us to eat these?” 

“Oh! I was thinking here on the sofa. Would you like some tea?” Setting his cake down on the coffee table, he turned to smile at Mycroft. 

“Thank you, but I like to enjoy the flavor of the pastry undiluted by anything else,” Mycroft replied with a hint of a blush. For some reason he felt silly admitting to such a thing and tried to distract from that by arranging himself on the sofa. 

“I can understand that, some things just need to be enjoyed as they are,” Greg replied nodding solemnly. “I’ll just go through and grab some spoons, then!” 

Watching him go, Mycroft took a moment to chide himself. He needed to pull himself together for goodness sake! He was acting like a mooneyed year 10. If Sherlock had been here there would have been no end to the torture and mockery. Taking a deep breath, Mycroft tried to center himself again and continued contently observing the environment around him. 

“I bet you could tell me my entire life’s history now,” Greg’s quiet voice said from the doorway. 

Flinching slightly at being caught, Mycroft attempted to apologize, “Unfortunately, I cannot turn off my observations, but I did not mean to invade your priva-” 

Cutting him off Greg jumped in in a rush, “Oh no! I wasn’t saying I didn’t like it. I’m not uncomfortable! I knew well enough what I was signing up for when I invited you here. I really think it’s amazing what you and Sherlock are capable of. If anything, I’m just worried you’ll realize how plain and dull I am when it comes down to it.” 

Raising his eyebrow at the unexpected response, Mycroft felt gratified at how generous Gregory was. Knowing his personality, he shouldn’t have expected anything less. “Well, perhaps not your whole life, but I must admit this has provided me with many new insights to your person that I had not previously been aware of,” Mycroft responded as he reached out for the spoon being handed to him. Pausing to carefully consider his next statement, he continued cautiously, “I must admit, I find you anything but plain and dull. If anything you are the most interesting person I have ever met.” 

Greg’s eyes looked as though they were going to pop out of his head. Mycroft’s heart started to speed up as he realized just how telling that last statement was. He cursed himself for not complimenting people more regularly and his inability to keep his own damn mouth shut. Unwilling to keep looking at Gregory, he turned to his cake and started eating it slowly, trying to savor each bite but seemingly unable to actually taste anything at the moment. 

A hand tentatively reached out and settled itself gently on his knee and Mycroft wondered how long it would take to pass out from an inability to breathe. Having finished his cake without realizing it, Mycroft finally raised his eyes to Gregory’s face and was unable to hide his shock at what he saw there. Adoration. Absolute adoration. But… that must be wrong. There was no way he was interpreting that look correctly. 

“Go out with me.” 

The room seemed to tilt dangerously even as Mycroft managed to stay ramrod straight. “... I beg your pardon, I seem to have misheard you.” 

“You didn’t mishear me. I’m utterly in love with you and I want you to go out with me. Surely you must’ve already known this. I’ve been making an absolute wanker of myself these past months trying to figure out ways to get your attention. I figured you were just being nice, indulging me this whole time,” as he talked Greg was slowly sliding closer to Mycroft who had seemed to have stopped functioning momentarily. 

“I - I - what?” Completely lost for words, Mycroft flailed around mentally trying to remember all of his interactions with Gregory up until this point. Standing up suddenly, he realized the reason he wasn’t aware was because he had been actively blocking the signs. He hadn’t wanted to know because if he was wrong he would have been devastated and hadn’t wanted to deal with the inevitable emotional crash that would follow. 

He didn’t notice Greg had also stood up and was leaning closer to try to hear what Mycroft was muttering to himself. “This isn’t possible,” he whispered. “According to all previous interactions, it has been clear that no wishes to stay in my company, let alone actually seek it out. He did, however, seek me out on several occasions. I thought that was merely him being polite-of course he is, anyone could’ve mistaken that. I-I… I am me, however, not even Sherlock enjoys being around me. Why would anyone? How can? There must be some mista-” A pair of hands softly grabbed his face, effectively ending his spiral. 

Smiling gently at Mycroft, Greg murmured sweetly, “It’s not a mistake. My ex-wife was a mistake. I take it you didn’t know about my feelings, however, considering the state you’re in at the moment. So I guess I’ll just tell you again. I really like you Mycroft. Hell, I love you. And I hope I’m not being too presumptuous in thinking you might have similar feelings for me?” Here he looked into Mycroft’s eyes questioningly. 

Taking yet another deep breath trying to center himself in the middle of the storm his brain was now in, Mycroft decided to be as brave as he could be in the moment and nodded slightly. The absolutely radiant smile this nod was met with had him unconsciously returning it in a feedback loop of dawning happiness. 

Mycroft’s breath hitched as Greg started to lean in slowly, still gently cupping his face. “You know what would make this moment absolutely perfect?” Greg asked softly. 

“What?” 

“Say my name you stubborn bastard,” Greg replied with a wicked grin. 

Laughing gently, Mycroft finally allowed his favorite name to slip from between his lips, “As you wish… Gregory.” 

Surging forward, Greg pressed their mouths together in a kiss that tasted of dark chocolate, raspberry, and unbridled joy. This was, without a doubt, Mycroft’s new favorite flavor and he hoped he didn’t have to wait till the next cheat day to taste it again.


End file.
